Being In A House That Wasn’t Yours

…or a Tec?”I see I must explain myself,” she said, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down.”Though I’m living in a big house in Park Lane, Mr. Bailey, I’m a poor woman. My husband has all the money, and not I.” “That doesn’t sound quite fair, ma’am,” I muttered, not knowing exactly what other remark to make.”Fair! Of course it isn’t fair!” she snapped. “Nothing is fair, is it? But come, I’m not here to expatiate on injustice. Have you ever been hard up, Mr. Bailey? You have. Good! Then you can sympathise with me. I am hard up so hard up that I am anxious to sell my diamonds a wedding present from my husband and, being a wedding present and positively the only present he has ever given me, you can understand my difficulty. In short, I want to sell it, but dare…

…‘ who has been keeping an eye on this house during my absence?”’ Yes, sir,’ I replied, not a little embarrassed, for I felt I had done rather a mean thing in thus spying on him.”I am really very much obliged to you,’ he” went on, ‘ for I find everything is all right; but come in for a moment, I can’t talk to you out there.’ Now, as you are aware, sir, the pay of a policeman is no great shakes not as much by a long way as that of an ordinary mechanic, who has no responsibilities and very little education so that when the gentleman fingered his waistcoat– pocket I had visions of something that might come in very useful for my wife and kids. Without unduly singing my own praises, I’m not as selfish as many working men. I only had one child, because…